


Stars shine bright above you, the ocean whispers below you

by captainhurricane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Blood, Contemplative, Daydreams, Everyone Is In Their 30s, Fluff, Gen, Implied Dismemberment, M/M, Merman!Shiro, Slow Burn, Stargazing, dock worker!Keith, side Allura/Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-13 18:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Keith keeps looking up at the stars, when he could be looking down at the ocean.





	1. a merman's eyes

**Author's Note:**

> betaed by [Mari](between-the-starz.tumblr.com).

_ Magic isn't real, Keith. Why do you think it is? _

 

The why is found in the stars, as usual. They're the first thing Keith looks at whenever he's anywhere  he can see them. They're the first thing he thinks about. They're plastered on his childhood room's ceiling, shining down at him since he was knee-high and bright-eyed. They're all around him, inside of him, reflected in his eyes whenever he takes the night bus to his graveyard shift. 

Why wouldn't he believe in magic when the stars exist? When the universe itself breathes around him, urging him to go, go, travel and see everything there is to see, because there is so much to see. 

So he ignores the naysayers, the fellow dockworkers. He ignores his grumpiest uncles and even his occasional friends, those with their feet firmly on the ground.

 

_ What do you see in the sky, Keith? Why do you want to work nights, Keith?  _

 

Because nights let him see the sky better, nights let him dream. He's had a dozen jobs over the thirty years of his life, a few failed educations, a couple of more or less failed relationships but the only thing that's always managed to make him smile are the stars. It's a boy's dream, of course, nobody goes to the skies unless they have money or a proper network or a chance for a proper education. Keith has had to provide for his family: for his sick uncle, for the uncle in prison, for his parents' graves, for himself. He can't have anything for himself, that is the truth.

So he works nights at the docks, his latest string of jobs and watches the stars whenever he can. He chats a bit with his fellow workers and  tries not to let the smell around them bother him too much. The ocean is close by, the lights of the stars reflected on it, the moon casting its net on it. The ocean rarely rages these days, mostly just tossing itself against the docks: dark and deep and beautiful. 

Sometimes Keith takes his breaks right beside it, with his feet hanging over the edge, the water sloshes all the way to his feet. He doesn't look at his feet, however, because his head is always in the stars. 

They're the only magic he needs in his life.

And that works to an extent. He keeps his head down, his hair away from his face and his thoughts on his work when he’s actually working. He’s amiable enough with his fellow workers but they don’t know him, not really. They talk about their families and plans for their vacations and futures and roadtrips. Keith talks about the stars, the ocean and never mentions his future at all. His future is what it is. It’s a far-away thing that he never really pays attention to. He’s happy where he is.

On his rare days off, he visits his friends and listens to their lives. He does like them. He does. Then he goes to visit his uncle: the sick one who suffers through chronic pain with a smile. Then he goes to visit the other one, the one in prison who insists he didn’t know the bankteller had a gun. Keith isn’t quite sure if he believes him. But these uncles are all the family he has left.

Keith drifts, saves money when he can, and sits in the library when he can, reading and reading and reading.

He’s happy where he is, truly. This is what he insists to himself on a nightly basis.

But there is a longing inside of him that can’t be filled with any means: a hole the size of Jupiter, burning like a supernova. So he casts his eyes at the stars and then at the ocean and lets its cold hands lick his feet as he chews on his sandwiches and drinks his coffees and teas and smoothies.

It’s one of those kinds of melancholic, bitter, cold blue and green nights when he sits at the pier like this, a little further away from the others. The ocean is more still than it has been in days. Keith listens to the chatter of his colleagues and watches the horizon, the stars glimmering upon the waves. At first Keith thinks it’s just that: shimmer of the night sky on the water, but then the shimmering light moves.

Keith lowers his sandwich and squints.

The light moves closer and there- is that a fish? There aren’t any dolphins here. No sharks. Just teeny-tiny Nemos, lost on the way home, fish as tiny as Keith’s fingers. But this one is a black dot in the silver-gold shimmer of the water. It vanishes and for a moment Keith wonders if he was just seeing things.

He finishes his sandwich and goes back to work. The shifting black dot, a flicker of light on the water remains in his mind until the moment the sun begins to kiss the horizon and Keith can clock out.

His bag is  thrown over his shoulder, the warmth of the morning slowly beginning to tickle him when he hears a rustle by the pier: he usually takes the long, scenic route home to his single-room apartment, just to watch the fading stars and the whispering ocean a little while longer.

The rustle sounds at first like the leaves of the trees that bow down over the pier at times, but then there’s a sound like a groan. Keith blinks. He waits a few seconds and then hears it again. It sounds pained. With a huff, Keith turns off his path and jogs towards the sound, towards the threatening edge of the pier.

Nobody’s going for a swim at 4am, right?

“Hello?” Another groan answers. Keith frowns and drops his bag and carefully peeks over the pier.

A hand has grabbed one of those large metal rings that partly peek out of the water. The hand is attached to what seems to be a man. The man is gazing up at Keith, lips parted, eyes wide. The water is murky and dark underneath but if Keith’s sharp eyes aren’t lying to him, there is definitely red in the water.

“Oh shit, hey, wait man, let me help you,” he says, instantly beginning to shrug off his shoes.

“Help?” Croaks the partly submerged man. The rising sun glitters on his skin, illuminating a flash of purple and black.

Keith blinks. He must be seeing things.

“Just tired,” murmurs the man, his smile watery and hesitant. His skin looks ashen. “Just… hurts.”

Keith still takes off his shoes and his jacket. “Let me help you up, okay?” The man looks like he’s twice Keith’s size but that never stopped Keith before. He’s always been way stronger than he looks.

“I don’t think you can,” the man says and something about his face, his chiseled jaw and his tired, sad grin is twisting Keith’s insides into knots.

“I’m stronger than I look,” Keith starts to say but then the man shifts and something breaks the surface of the water. Keith blinks. The man blinks. The something does it again and this time Keith sees it: it’s a tail, a long, thick, beautiful fishtail with glittering black and purple scales, the fins like those of a Siamese fighting fish or something similar.

“Uh,” is all Keith manages.

“I am quite heavy,” the strange man says. He shifts again so that it’s completely clear to Keith: the fact that this tail is attached to this man and his fitness instructor’s torso: the fact that those scales continue up the man’s sides and back, the fact that there are faint lines of gills on each side of the man’s thick neck.

“Uhhhh”, says Keith again, now on all fours by the edge of the piers, staring down at a pair of kind, gentle eyes.

The eyes of a damn  _ merman. _  
  



	2. the scale and the sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith instantly tells his friends. A bad move? It remains to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fellas is it gay if i want to stroke mer!Shiro's tail

It is both a day off and an _ off _ day for Keith. He wakes up at noon and does a little cleaning in his shithole apartment. He squints at the sun and drinks his  morning coffee and eats his breakfast; half of a  burrito left over from last night. It’s a good routine and he’s used to it, even if it makes the ever-familiar tingle of anxiety start at his fingertips and make its way all the way down to his toes.

If it gets a little hard to breathe then nobody’s there to notice.

It’s something Keith has never shared with anyone, this odd quirk of his: oh, his friends know of his star-gazing, of his night working, of his sick uncle and his criminal uncle and have even visited Keith’s parents’ graves with him.

But they don’t know this: these off days when Keith’s fingers tremble and heart beats too fast and skin dampens with frustrated perspiration. These off days when everything tastes like ash in Keith’s mouth and his brain is unfocused and fuzzy.

The only thing ringing through him is the feeling that there is no meaning to his life.

That’s when he visits the local planetarium or aquarium, just sits for hours between silently floating fish  or under a make - shift sky filled with stars. That’s when he grips his hands tight and calls his friends and when he sees them, hugs them a little tighter than usual.  He  lets his friends’ joy drift over him and through him and get the iron band around his chest to loosen so he can breathe.

Now though? This day of all days nothing helps. Not even the memory of the /merman from two nights ago who had stared up at Keith with a grin and a face that would make God cry: although it definitely helps to give Keith something to focus on.

He had even tried to see if the merman showed up again for Keith’s  shift last night , but there had been nothing. No sign of him.

And since tonight is a free night, there is no chance of using his breaks to stare into the distance and at the stars anyway. So Keith doesn’t plan  a thing anything , instead lounges for a few hours on his sofa and watches trashy reality TV before starting to wonder if he had imagined the merman after all. First of all, merpeople don’t even exist. Second of all, certainly they wouldn’t look like that. Thirdly, they don’t exist. Keith knows that full well: like he knows ghosts don’t exist, the Mothman is a hoax and aliens probably do exist but they’re going to leave Earth alone.

This is no alien; however, this is something else.  

The merman’s tail had been so pretty, the morning sun glittering on shiny black scales.

Keith stares at his TV, not seeing the program anymore but instead the merman. It had been real. Certainly, Keith daydreams, but not to this extent. The merman had absolutely been real and for some reason, he had let himself be seen and heard by Keith.

Keith turns off the TV and hops off his sofa. He recognizes the telltale signs of his anxiety creeping up on him, clutching him tight. If he lay back down now, he might not get up until the next day. So, the first thing to do is to go see if the merman left behind some evidence. Then. Well. Maybe then it would be good to try to tell his friends about this. Lance would most likely roll his eyes and call Keith a damn weirdo but then again, when has Keith ever cared about Lance’s opinions concerning Keith’s own life. Pidge might be curious, and Hunk would certainly be concerned but they are here for him, like Keith tries his best to be there for them.

But only once Keith can be certain there is something to show for it except his word.

So, he grabs his jacket and puts on his sneakers, ties his hair into a ponytail and heads out. The wind has picked up enough to be properly chilly, but Keith takes huge gulps of fresh, chilly air anyway. At least all the remnants of snow and winter are long gone and even the nights have gone warmer.

He digs out his earbuds and puts them on. With a few taps of his phone he gets something rhythmic to walk to and spur his steps further towards the docks.

“Now, if I were a merman who’s not even supposed to exist  –  where would I be?” Under the trees creating sweet, sweet shade, he walks, hands in his pockets.  A sensual female voice sings about love right in his ears and the corner of Keith’s mouth quirks up. Nobody to miss, miss Fitzgerald. Keith’s anxiety has all but been shoved under his resolution to find a proof of his merman and he’s glad for it. He knows it will come back, as it always does, but he’ll deal with it. Like he always does.

Going to the docks is one way.

The water level has risen so Keith doesn’t have to lean too much over the side to peek over it. There is the water, there is that metal ring that the merman was holding onto. And naturally, there is nothing else. Keith tries not to let himself be overwhelmed by the gut-churning disappointment. He stares at the dark, still water for a second with a frown.

Then again, maybe it had been wistful thinking that the merman would have left something.

Keith sighs and straightens to his full height, but then  – _ then _ his eyes spot something. Could it be? It’s the sun that draws his gaze at it: something shiny and small stuck to where the merman was. Could it be? Keith kneels down and reaches, his fingers grabbing it and pulling it off the wall. Slowly, a grin forms on his face, tugging at his lips.

Because in his fingers is a scale. A smooth, black scale that glimmers purple and blue when the light hits it just right. It’s wet, but not cold like Keith expected, just – warm. Comfortingly warm.

He watches how it catches the sunlight for a moment, cradling it in his hand before tugging it safely into his pocket. He takes out his phone and taps out a quick message to his friends. As usual, they all answer in a span of five seconds with varying levels of excitement.

Keith turns the volume of his music up and begins jogging the other way, already figuring out ways to tell his friends the whole story. The shiny scale in his pocket seems to glow strangely warm.

He jogs all the way to the apartment complex where Allura and Lance live and where they usually have their weekly pizza slash movie nights. They had had them at Keith’s shithole-apartment before but it had ended up being way too tiny to hold five full-grown adults at the same time – although Lance would insist that Pidge is probably not full-grown – especially since they all insisted on always staying over. So when Lance had officially moved in with his long-time girlfriend-turned-fiancée Allura, it’s like the heavens had opened themselves for their little friend group. Who knew that Lance, the resident playboy of the group, would be the one to settle down first. Keith certainly didn’t.

The apartment is an obnoxiously large two-bedroom place with enough quirky interior decorations for Lance and enough elegance for Allura. Despite their differences in tastes, they had managed to create a nice peaceful place for themselves and their friends.

It’s one that Keith frequents, not just for pizza nights. Good thing he sent his message now and not a few hours earlier when both Lance and Allura would have been working and Pidge would have been still sleeping, as she tends to be a night owl as well as Keith. Despite their different timetables, they all manage to meet up at least twice a week. One time they can be flexible about but pizza night? Never.

So Keith isn’t surprised when Hunk’s the only one missing when he arrives  at Lance and Allura’s door.

Allura smiles sweetly at Keith and pulls him in.

“Hunk has a big order coming up tomorrow,” Lance says from his usual spot on the couch. Pidge is sitting cross-legged next to him, fighting with him over the remote.

“Probably  making some kind of little cocktail-pieces, tiny, tiny plates of deliciousness,” Pidge murmurs after wrestling the remote from Lance and elbowing him  to in the face.

Keith rolls his eyes and flops down on the couch.

Allura huffs. “At least one of us works diligently. It’s rather admirable he’s had his own company for so many years already.” She might have gotten into their friend group late, but she has always seemed to have the best grasp of everyone’s character. Even Keith’s, although they were a little icy at first towards each other. Keith has never quite understood that distant attitude but chalked it up to just Allura’s wariness towards any friend of Lance’s. And they get along fine now, so he doesn’t think about it too often.

“It is admirable!” Lance shouts from the couch, reaching with his leg to poke Keith. “What’s up, man?”

“Hey,” says Keith. The TV is playing the same trashy reality he was watching earlier. “How’s everyone doing? Aside from Hunk and his big order.” Keith slips his hand into his pocket and  holds back a smile when he feels the warmth of the scale.

“Quite good, thank you, Keith,” Allura says. She takes the armchair for herself. She squints at the TV.

Pidge huffs at her and changes the channel. The screen’s glow is reflected on her glasses. She glances at Keith. “And what about you? You said you had something to show us. Be glad I was staying the night or otherwise I would be still on my way here.” She yawns. Figures she had just woken up. Her hair is sticking all over the place and Keith is pretty sure she’s still wearing her pyjamas.

“What hardship,” Keith says. “Okay. Okay. A couple of nights ago- can you turn that volume lower- thanks, Pidge. A couple of nights ago- Lance, stop making that face.” They might all be pushing thirty and over it, but that doesn’t mean they have to be entirely mature adults, right? “Anyway! I was just about to leave for home, you know, I walk by the docks a lot and it was pretty low tide then and all. But I heard a noise.”

Lance gasps theatrically. Pidge kicks him in the knee. “Sorry,” Lance murmurs with a smirk.

Keith rolls his eyes. “It was like, a dying animal or something? Sounded like it was in pain so I figured why not, I’ll go check. Maybe it’s someone who had fallen over into the water or something. You know I’m a great swimmer.” He glances at his friends, all of them attentive at once. Keith pulls the scale out of his pocket, keeping it in fist. “At first I thought this person was just someone who had almost drowned, a wayward early swimmer. A very early swimmer, I mean, it was 4am. But then I saw it.” He shows them the scale, right at the moment when the TV’s glow reflects on it, making it dazzling. It’s big, about the size of Keith’s palm. He watches the varying levels of confusion on his friends’ faces and smiles. “You see, this man that I was seeing, hanging off the dock’s side, he had a tail. Not just any tail, no, but a fish tail. And this? I found this right where he was just a few minutes ago. Look at it. It’s not a fake, I swear to you.”

“I know you’re not lying because you never do,” Lance says. “But come on man.”

Pidge squints and takes the scale into her hands. “It’s kind of heavy. It doesn’t seem like it’s fake.”

Keith huffs. “It’s not a fake.”

Instead of the scale that has now both Pidge and Lance leaning over it, huffing and turning it over, Allura watches Keith. She’s frowning, her head tilted. “What happened to the man? You said he was making noise.”

Keith taps his lip. “He dived. Guys, I know this is weird. But I wasn’t that tired. He dived and his tail splashed water on me. I think he was wounded someway because he looked a little winded and I think I saw blood.”

“Ehh, I don’t know,” says Lance, now holding the scale between his hands and squinting at it. He gives it back to Keith. “I mean, mermen? They’re stories, dude.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “I know what I saw.”

“That scale is pretty convincing,” Pidge says. She’s frowning too. “Where did you say you saw him again?”

“By the docks. A stone’s throw away from where I usually work. And no, Pidge. We’re not going scouting. Mermen are a little different from aliens.”

Pidge wrinkles her nose. “It’s pretty much proven that aliens exist, though. And we know shit about the world’s oceans. I believe you, Keith. I just want to see it myself.”

“Obviously,” Keith huffs and lets Allura have a look of his scale treasure.

“How intriguing,” Allura says, smiling as she watches the light play on the scale. “It is like the scale of a sea monster!” Her eyes are very bright and her eyebrow is quirked as she gives the scale back. “What did he look like?”

Keith blinks when three pairs of eyes turn towards him. Keith’s cheeks warm. The merman had looked up at him and smiled. “He was kinda – “

“Oooohhh,” says Lance.

Keith tosses a pillow at him. “Say nothing.” Keith’s cheeks feel warmer. Who cares if a mythological creature had shown up at his dock and smiled like an angel?

“So he was pretty,” Pidge says and turns the TV volume up again. Her lips twitch into a grin, even as her gaze is once more on the TV. “Keith has been watching Shape of Water or something lately.”

“Pidge!” Keith tries but she merely smirks and blocks his pillow attack.

But the scale, once more in Keith’s pocket, glows so, so very warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^ not a dig at shape of water because I adore that movie/book to BITS and thought it was perfect


	3. he knew my name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith sees the merman again. Keith and Lance chat a bit.

The tide is so high Keith is forbidden from sitting on his favourite perch for lunch hour. He wrinkles his nose at the order and claims he doesn’t mind if his sandwiches get soggy, but Kolivan, his boss, merely looks at him with that stoic face and Keith gives in. Kolivan is a hardass but Keith knows he’s also a damn softie: Keith had no credits to his name whatsoever but Kolivan had still given this job to him. Kolivan with an unpronounceable surname and shoulders broader than two Keiths: if Keith can’t have his biological father, he sort of can have Kolivan.

Not that he’d ever tell Kolivan that.

Because of that order, lunch break is spent with the other guys and the one woman in the group – snobby Nyma – and listening to them chat about this and that and smoke more than Keith ever would. They’re huddled inside the barracks so Keith’s sight towards the sea is blocked. He chews on his latest grilled sandwich and stares past his companions.

The merman hadn’t been seen in a couple of days and couple of nights. There’s a movie night coming and silently Keith wonders if he’ll have to ban his friends from showing Little Mermaid, just to fuck with him. The merman had been real, he had talked to Keith: so why hadn’t he showed again?

Keith has taken to carrying the scale wherever he goes. It’s safely wrapped in a handkerchief and tucked into the pocket of whatever jacket he’s currently wearing: usually it’s the same old ragged leather jacket that’s become more brown than red over the years. He’s taken to stuffing his hand into his pocket and touching the scale. It’s not at all wet or damp to the touch, it’s as warm as a tiny flame.

“Hey Keith?”

“Huh?”

“You okay there, man?” It’s this guy Rolo, that Keith suspects is slightly high every night. Even now Rolo is swaying a little, even while sitting down. Even his eyes look unfocused.

Keith shrugs. “Good, good.” He turns his ear towards the wall facing the ocean. All he hears are the waves pushing towards the docks, like the ocean is curious enough to try to peek over the railing. Keith shoves the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and gets up.

“I’ll go back first,” he says uselessly and pulls his jacket zipper back up. He’s humming as he makes his way back to his previous spot. As he’s mostly on cleaning duty tonight, he can shut off his mind and just focus on his task. He takes the opportunity to look at the stars, blinking bright down at him. He pulls his gloves back on and grabs his rag and gets to work.

His single-minded focus is the reason it takes him a moment to realize that there are two stars closer to the ground than he realized: his hand on the forklift’s door stills. There are two small spots of light by the edge of the dock. They stare.

Keith stares back. “Hel – hello?”

The eyes, because that’s what they are, blink.

Keith straightens, dirty rag still in hand and steps closer. The night is pitch-black and heavy around them, the eyes appearing just beyond the edge of the lights surrounding the docks. Keith has to squint into the dark to see. He glances at his workmates, still eating except for Kolivan who seems to be on the phone outside of the barracks. Keith sneaks a little closer.

The merman stares at him, hanging off the edge, eyes brighter than they were when Keith first saw him. The same eyes that now reflect the dock-lights, as brightly as a cat’s eyes. As before, the merman seems human except for the obvious slits of gills on either side of his neck and the webbing between the fingers of his only hand. As before, his eyes, even as they gleam like this in the light, are beautiful. His scales catch the light and glitter: did they spread this far before or are Keith’s eyes playing tricks on him again?

Keith kneels by the dock- with one last look at a far-away Kolivan – and opens and closes his mouth, heart racing.

“I thought I dreamed you up.”

The corners of the merman’s eyes crinkle. His webbed fingers curl, his nails thick and long. Yet he smiles so sweet that Keith doesn’t shy away from that hand.

“I thought I dreamed _you,”_ the merman says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Every word comes out hesitant, but the smile remains.

Keith sees a hint of sharp teeth, heart stuttering in his chest. “Are you real? No, I mean – how are you real? How can you be?” He glances around them again, sees Kolivan ushering the others out of the barracks.

The merman chuckles, the sound watery. “I will see you around, Keith,” he whispers, and he’s gone. The water and the waves left as they were.

Keith gulps. The merman knows his name. The merman is real.

“Keith, what are you doing there, gawking at the sea! Get to work!” Kolivan barks close-by and Keith snaps out of it, waving his hand back at his boss.

“Don’t get a heart attack, old man,” he huffs and can practically hear Kolivan roll his eyes at him. Keith grabs his rag and gets back to it, but it takes him a while to truly get his focus back. The merman’s eyes glow in the dark, his nails digging into the rough grey stone of the dock. While he may be gone back to his depths, Keith only has to look at the spot where he was to imagine that handsome face staring right back at him.

The night goes on around him, as eternal and dark as all the nights before. The merman doesn’t show himself again, leaving Keith with too many unanswered questions.

He ends up going to Lance and Allura’s place the following afternoon, right after waking up. He’s somewhat well-rested, he’s shaved and the merman’s scale is safely tucked into his breast pocket. So he’s humming as he rides the elevator to Lance and Allura’s floor and rings the doorbell twice just to be annoying. He knows at this hour Allura is rarely home, so it’s most likely just Lance.

It takes Lance a while to get the door.

Keith taps his foot against the floor. He opens his jacket. He pulls his hair tighter into its ponytail. He tilts his head once the lock finally turns and Lance huffs at him from the open door.

“I was in the middle of filming, you jackass.”

“You’re not that regular with your videos, how should I know. Jerk.” Keith offers his fist, mouth twitching into a smirk. Lance rolls his eyes but bumps it and lets him in. One of the many large windows is open a crack to let the breeze in, Lance’s usual filming-setup in the living room. Nobody in their circles had been surprised to find out Lance had become a content creator for Youtube, opting for makeup tutorials, skin care tutorials and general chatter. Apparently Lance makes enough money on top of the money Allura makes for them to able to afford more than just their ridiculously luxurious apartment. Especially on top of the fact that they don’t have to pay the rent for single apartments anymore.

Sometimes Keith can recognize a faint twinge of jealousy inside of himself for the luck and wealth his friends have. But only sometimes. He’s happy for them and he doesn’t dwell on what he doesn’t have. Lance and Allura have both worked hard to get where they are.

Besides, it’s not like Keith would particularly care about living with another person constantly, seeing them all the time in his private space. He loves his friends, truly and may even love his co-workers but he needs balance in his life.

Having a life like Lance and Allura do? Not for him.

Their apartment still feels like a second home to him, somewhere cozy where he can just sit around and exist without having to be anything he isn’t. Now he follows Lance to the living room.

“What kind of a video were you doing today?”

Lance huffs, gesturing at the pretty, pretty daylight filtering through pale blue curtains. “You know, Keith, I’ve been doing this for like five years and you still don’t know what videos I schedule for which days. I’m hurt.” His fingers are stained with some lotion, his hair slightly ruffled from where he’s probably been messing with it.

“Just fucking with you,” Keith says smoothly and dodges the playful punch Lance aims at his shoulder. “Another lotion review or whatever, right? Recommend me something.” He flops down onto the couch. Lance flops down right next to him.

“As if, you hardened sea captain, you. You’re gonna have wrinkles at thirty-damn-three with the way you keep working your graveyards,” Lance huffs and shifts his laptop and camera a bit. He grins. “You wanna be in a video with me, buddy? You can be my before and I can be the after.” He taps his cheek. “You know which one of us has the better skin anyway.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You do you, Lance.” Lance has offered before, to this or that video. He’s even managed to drag Allura into it to do some admittedly adorable couple challenges with her. They’re as sweet as marshmallows sometimes, those two. “You know, I can go if you want to continue.”

“Nah, it’s fine, man. Hunk brought some leftovers this morning, by the way. You should have seen him, he was covered in damn flour. You know he doesn’t curse but he looked ready for it, said his new worker is giving him a headache.”

“Oh, really?” Keith gets up and heads straight past the kitchen counter to the shiny silver fridge. He opens it to find it fully stocked and Hunk’s neat handwriting pointing his way towards tiny, carefully rolled pastries.

“Yeah! I think the poor girl’s been there a week and probably at her wit’s end. Probably also surprised how much of a hardass Hunk can be, despite looking like a teddybear,” Lance says from the couch. “Bring me a soda!”

“Not your wife!” Keith shouts back and grabs the whole plate of covered pastries and a bottle of sparkling soda. Probably one of the few exceptions Lance makes to his usually green and healthy diet. He tosses it to Lance who grabs it easily. Keith sits back down with a whole plate and uncovers it.

“Oh, are these – what’s in these?” He grabs one and sniffs it. Fridge-cold, it doesn’t particularly smell like anything except for the faintest whiff of something he can’t name. Somehow, he’s reminded of the way the merman looked in the night. _Keith,_ the merman had said. Keith shivers.

Lance’s eyebrow is raised. “You okay, buddy?”

Keith nods.

Lance hums. “Okay, so, I think it’s mostly stuff like herbs and minced meat. I think he mixed up like two sweet ones but since they look completely the same, neither Ali or me found them yet.” He snickers. “Are you sure you don’t wanna be in a video with me? I’ve introduced all of my other friends to my subscribers and told enough stories about you for them to be interested.”

Keith chews on a pastry. They would probably taste better if they were warm. He scratches his cheek and gets up again. “Okay, fine. Just wait until I’ve warmed these up and you can make a video with me.” The merman’s eyes had glowed like a cat’s. Keith pushes the plate into the microwave and pushes the buttons. The microwave lights up to life. There’s no similar glow like those eyes. Even the gentle, faint hum of the microwave is nothing like the waves hitting the docks and the merman saying Keith’s name, so gently, peering at him so curiously.

The beeping of the microwave brings Keith back down to Earth so he takes the plate and brings it back to the living room turned studio. He keeps the warm plate on his lap as Lance makes everything ready.

“Didn’t you have another video going on?”

“Pfft, don’t you know anythi- okay, okay, I know the joke’s old ten years ago, stop hitting me- “

Keith snorts and shoves a pastry in Lance’s mouth. Lance chews it and swallows it in almost one go. “I did, I did. I know you’re technologically challenged, man, but there’s this thing where I can stop what I was doing and start up a next one. Besides, you’re here. So I’m not going to waste this opportunity.” Lance stretches his fingers and makes sure the camera is ready.

Keith chews on another tiny, adorable pastry and watches as Lance begins his introduction-spiel. He’s clearly done it a thousand times as he speeds on without care. Focusing on Lance’s overwhelming personality and the inquisitive eye of the camera takes some time but Keith manages. He gets through multiple takes of the same thing, rolls his eyes- fondly, nobody tell Lance – and gets through half of the plate of pastries.

When Lance finally stops the recording, Keith flops back against the backrest of the couch. “Doesn’t it ever get exhausting?”

Lance taps his keyboard, his knee bouncing. “Nah. Besides, I don’t do this every day. You do your graveyard shifts almost every night. Doesn’t that get exhausting?”

Keith huffs. “No.” The merman’s webbed fingers clutching at the dock. The glittering smooth scales. Keith’s mouth quirks into a smile before he can stop it and of course Lance, sharp-eyed as ever, spots it.

“What?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Nothing. Can’t I smile at nothing now?” The scale in his breast pocket throbs to the rhythm of his heart.

“Oh no. No.” Lance squints, his camera and videos all forgotten. “No. No way. Either you are having an affair at work or you saw your magical non-existent merman again.” God, that smirk of his is so irritating. Especially when he hits the nail in the head.

“So what if I did? Want a beer?”

“Want a beer, he asks, in my own house. No thank you, graveyard man. What I want is details. Either you have some great damn delusions, or you literally wished a magical man into existence.”

Keith still gets up and leaves the pastries to Lance. He knows Lance and Allura mostly keep a few cans of beer for Keith in back of their fridge. He grabs one and comes back to Lance’s narrowed eyes.

“He’s not a delusion.” Keith opens the can, listens to the telltale hiss. “He looked at me, his eyes reflected the dock lights. He looked at me and he knew my name.”


	4. moon river

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro reflects on his new acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! a shiro pov! i'm so sorry this chapter took so long. my inspiration for fics comes and goes. 
> 
> music for this chapter: [](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYZZVsuBjM4)

The waves splash against the rocks: the biggest one flat enough to lay on. This little nook in the middle of the ocean is generally far from the usual ship routes and the docks so Shiro can take a moment to rest here if he wants to.

 

In here he can feel the wind. In here he can feel the sun. In here he can listen to the gulls screaming above, to the distant sounds of ships passing and in and out of the harbour where Keith works.

 

Shiro rarely dares to come up here during the day, when the sunlight glitters on the water’s surface, beckoning him. He’s already gotten an earful from his family about letting humans see him, and his family and friends don’t even  know about _Keith._

Keith. 

 

Shiro doesn’t know why his heart is loud as thunder in his chest whenever he thinks of the handsome human. Shiro had seen Keith for the first time some weeks ago, when he had first dared to swim closer to the docks, under the cover of the night. From that night on, Shiro had come closer and watched Keith among his colleagues, hair sometimes gathered in a ponytail, sometimes hidden underneath a cap or a hood. Sometimes Keith had flashed a grin that had gotten Shiro to quickly, soundlessly dive back underneath.

 

Keith’s name Shiro had heard from the other people buzzing in the docks. 

 

The language Shiro knows fairly well: his family and community might generally feel only somewhat irritated  curiosity  towards humans but they had made sure each mer in the community knows what to do in case they end up being seen by humans.

 

Or Sea Lords forbid, end up interacting with one.

 

Thankfully Shiro belongs to one of the most curious, communicative mer-communities. They’ve had centuries to get used to swimming around the world’s oceans and learning of all the ways the people on the surface had learned. The too curious ones had sometimes swam too far and gotten captured and never returned, sometimes Shiro had heard of stories about those who went above the surface because they fell in love.

 

The bad stories, the good stories - none of it brings fear into Shiro’s heart. He’s had a forever to be in his own community under the sea, to see all the oceans of the world. Now there is a whole world above him that he’s not a part of.

He’s not even explicitly forbidden to not wander in this new ocean they moved in just a few months ago. Nobody needs to know of this rock of his. Nobody needs to know about Keith with the sweet face and the most beautiful eyes Shiro had ever seen. 

 

Even if they knew, it shouldn’t be a surprise that exploring is in Shiro’s heart. Ever since he was a fingerling, he had swam off out of the reach of his guardians to see what’s on the other side of the coral. It’s only natural for that to extent into the desire to see what’s above.

 

Stars, it seems. The moon. Humans. Especially Keith. 

 

Shiro hadn’t meant to let Keith see him in quite the manner he did, though. All Shiro had wanted was to take a moment to breathe and fix the silly wound he had gotten while battling a particularly rowdy shark - silly thing, it should have known better, even with one of Shiro’s arms missing. 

 

But then morning had come and sunlight had started to tickle the waves and before Shiro had realized it - it had been Keith staring straight at him. 

 

It’s truly a wonder Shiro had managed to remember enough English to answer. Or words in general.

 

In the morning light, haloed by the sun, Keith had been the most beautiful thing Shiro had ever seen. He doesn’t know quite enough English to describe the feelings seeing Keith like that had evoked from him. It’s a little like the way corals sometimes gently swish when Shiro swims by. It’s a little like the songs of his family and friends. It’s a little like the stars glimmering far above Shiro when he dares to swim to the surface during particularly dark nights. 

 

That’s what Keith looks like to him. A galaxy held within curious eyes, dark hair curling around his ears. Shiro wants to sweep those strands away and brush Keith’s cheek. 

 

Perhaps escaping from Keith’s gaze is cowardly, but Shiro is careful. He knows he’ll have his family’s ire if they find out he’s let a human see him, has even talked to him - but they will never know. Keith is Shiro’s little secret. 

 

Underwater there are no clocks, no daily rhythm like up above. Still Shiro finds himself swimming up and watching the docks from his favourite rock or just floating, hoping anyone that watches him thinks he’s just a rock. 

 

It’s another cloudy night, the stars barely there. Shiro sighs and swims a little closer to the dock lights. This time there’s a ship there, a huge, hulking monster of metal. Shiro steels himself and dares to go closer, swims underneath it and scares away a school of tiny fish. He laughs, silently. His quills expand, his webbed fingers grazing the ship’s bottom. The bright, bright lights of the docks are reflected on this shallow water and Shiro plays with him, forgets himself in his playfulness, in his  curiosity.

 

He’s old enough to know better, he hasn’t been a child in forever - no matter what his family says - and he’ll have a long, long life ahead of him yet. But the night is beautiful and Keith is right there, working hard. 

 

So Shiro sings. He doesn’t know what it sounds like to those above the surface. He knows he’s not the greatest of his kind in this particular craft: he’s made for the more physical activities, for the conversation, for the dreaming. 

 

Still he sings, lets the words and the nonsense melody flow through him. The sea sings back to him, holds him because he is the son of water and his voice is the sound of the waves. A smile twists his lips. He’s not quite the siren sailors from old times probably thought of: Shiro’s heard enough stories, found enough submerged books with their pages stuck together and crumbling in his fingers to know he’s not this mermaid that lives in the dreams of humans.

 

He’s just Shiro, dreamer of stars and longing without words for this human with galaxies for eyes. There’s the difference between their species: Shiro hadn’t shown himself to Keith at his most monstrous. Shiro hadn’t ever spoken to a human before although he had learned the language long ago. 

 

Keith doesn’t seem to mind. 

 

Shiro watches him, carefully, curiously, that nimble figure bustling through the docks. Keith even tosses his head back in laughter once. When Keith’s gaze turns towards the sea, Shiro dives back down to his little fishes.

 

His scales glitter in the moonlight, perhaps Keith will think it’s just a trick of the light. 

 

Shiro returns the next night. And the next. He doesn’t know how long it takes until he encourages himself to approach Keith again, but Keith’s eyes widen when he sees Shiro. Keith crouches immediately. 

“It’s you.” 

 

Shiro smiles.

 

The dock is utterly silent around them, utterly devoid of others although Shiro sees the shimmer of lights from a small building nearby. Shiro doesn’t ask. He’s glad that the tide is high enough that he can place his arm on the side of the dock and doesn’t have to shout up at Keith. 

“Where are all your friends?” 

 

Keith’s nose wrinkles. “I was feeling restless so I’m way early here.” His hair is free from its ponytail. His shoes looks scuffed and dirty, the wrinkles in them oddly charming. His eyes still look like galaxies. 

 

“I am restless all the time,” Shiro says. He inhales. He can feel his quills quiver. Not meant to be above water, this body of his, but it’s still good to feel something fresh. Unlike the steady, comforting pressure of water. “I have been waiting for the moment to talk to you again.” 

 

The corner of Keith’s mouth twitches. “I still can’t believe you’re actually real. What’s your name?” If there are questions buzzing behind his pretty eyes, he’s not asking any of them. His voice is as soft as the waves Shiro loves.

 

“You can call me Shiro.” 

 

Keith’s eyebrow quirks. “Shiro?” He reaches before Shiro can react, his fingers warm as they brush white hair from Shiro’s forehead. “I can see where you get the name.” 

 

A heavy warmth spreads inside Shiro’s rib cage. His tail swishes in the water. “I - I took it. My true name is something I imagine would be a little incomprehensible in your language.” His finned ears shift, pressing tighter against his head. “I have been interested in humans for decades.” 

 

Keith’s shoe scrapes against the stone. He tilts his head. “Decades?” 

 

“Wait - was that wrong? A decade is ten of your years, yes?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Then it’s right. Decades. I have watched you people for very long. But I have - “ Shiro lowers his gaze, his sharp nails scraping against the stone. “I have never made contact before.” What does the look on Keith’s face mean? Is it interest? Is it  curiosity ? At least Shiro can tell it’s not disgust or fear. 

 

The smile returns to Keith’s face. He places his chin on his hands. The breeze tosses his dark strands to his face. “Really? Never before?” He glances at the small building, at the main road leading to the docks but doesn’t get up. Maybe Shiro’s eyes are playing tricks on him, maybe it’s just the dock lights throwing shadows on Keith’s face, but Keith’s cheeks are a little pink.

 

“I saw you,” Shiro whispers. 

 

“I thought I saw strange lights at the sea that one night,” Keith whispers back. He sits down on the docks, uncaring if his obviously well-used trousers get dirty. “You were hurt when I saw you.” 

 

Shiro nods. “It’s fine now. I just had a little altercation.” He waits for the question of it his arm happened like that too: an altercation, a little incident. But the question never comes, even when Keith’s eyes flick to his missing arm from time to time. The warm place inside Shiro continues to spread. “I’m not - “ the screech of a car’s wheels. Shiro freezes. “Don’t tell anyone about me, Keith.” 

 

“Ah - “ but Keith doesn’t manage to say a word before Shiro has already dived, has already swam far and far from the docks.

 

There is now a human who knows Shiro’s name. Keith knows his name now. Shiro doesn’t hide his smile as he swims back home to the reef, to his caverns. If he spends far too much time preening, polishing his scales, then nobody needs to know. He knows where to hide from the others. 

 

It’s his underwater cavern, the one with the little corner that’s actually above water. It’s where he’s tucked away his salvaged, mostly completely unreadable books and few trinkets. There’s a mirror there, mostly covered in moss, cracked, but Shiro can see his reflection well enough.

 

Keith clearly doesn’t see a monster, an animal, anything lower than him. No. Keith had smiled at him. 

Shiro’s tail spasms, splashes the water all over as he hides his face from himself. His body throbs, reminding him, as usual, of having reached the mating stage of his life and having not done anything about it.

 

But it’s not one of his kind that Shiro’s mind drifts to, someone he could lay eggs into, someone who could lay eggs into him. It’s Keith of galaxy-eyes and long, beautiful legs. 

 

Shiro’s face is warm, warm, warm, even here, in the blue and the green. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wait till Keith introduces Little Mermaid to Shiro


	5. i watched you, friend, and i know you are in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge contemplates. Lance contemplates. Keith pines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long.

Keith begins to loiter after work. Sometimes he thinks he spots Shiro’s glowing eyes, but it often ends up just being a flash of fish scales. And not the right fish either. The morning light especially is hard on the eyes so Keith isn’t surprised if they are playing tricks on him. Being up all night turns the world upside down and turns the night into his day and the day into his night. 

 

One morning at 4am when he’s the last to leave work, he hears a scratch by the docks. Two boats currently docked in are dead and silent. Keith’s co-workers have left in their bicycles and cars. Keith is only loitering because he hopes for a sight of his underwater friend. 

 

Another scratch. 

 

“Shiro?” 

 

Humming. A melody Keith doesn’t recognize. He comes closer and kneels, gazes into the water. It’s not Shiro, but it is a creature like him: narrow golden eyes and the shine of scales down its sides and neck. It looks more fearsome than Shiro, part their lips to reveal needle-sharp teeth. 

Keith blinks. “Um.” Fear is a little cold feeling, not entirely unknown to Keith but never too overpowering. Even now his curiousity is greater. “Hello?” 

 

The creature narrows its eyes. Instead of a single word back, it continues to hum and slips back underneath the water, its claws leaving faint scratches to the grey stone of the docks. Just a little down from where Keith’s hands are.

 

“Who are you?” Keith asks the water but it yields no answer.

 

*

 

The days roll ahead, as slowly, as tedious as ever. Nights fall darker and darker, whispering of colder days and chillier winds. Shiro returns a couple of times, always looking tired, always oddly graceful even with a missing arm. He looks less monstrous than his fellow creature: his hair looks softer, his scales less overpowering.

 

Maybe he’s doing it for Keith. 

 

Keith doesn’t ask about the other creature, but does keep wondering.

 

*

 

**

 

Pidge has more secrets than she can count. A few she has shared with others: one she whispered to Hunk the night her brother Matt went missing. Hunk had wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and squeezed. One Pidge had joyfully shared in the middle of the classroom, biting down anger. 

 

She’s a her, a little spitfire of fierce anger and even fiercer love.

This biggest secret she has only shared with her closest friends, except for Keith. Keith doesn’t need to know just yet, even as it irks her to keep this from him.

 

Especially after Keith had shyly told them about the scale he had found, the things he had seen. Maybe Keith hadn’t doubted their belief in them, hadn’t found their instant acceptance suspicious. 

 

A merman is not the strangest creature on this planet and his existence didn’t shock Pidge - or Lance, or Allura, or Hunk. After all, it is easy to believe in the things underwater when you are a creature of magic yourself. 

 

Pidge is truly twenty-eight, she is truly a woman of science, she truly has searched for her missing brother for years, she is, by all accounts, a normal human being. Yet there are reasons for her lack of sleep, for her nocturnal internal clock, for the way she always knows what to say and do. 

 

And Keith shines brighter to her than most, his aura a mixture of fierce, fiery red and midnight-black. Colours like that are sharp, usually indicators of violent natures and tendencies, created by people Pidge would rather not interact with.

But Keith is kind.

 

Keith’s red comes from his bleeding heart, from the fire inside. Keith’s black comes from his love of the night and the stars - and for the shiny black scales belonging to the mysterious man of the sea.

 

Pidge has only once seen a mermaid before: she had winked at her from a pier on one bright summer night before disappearing without a sound. Her scales had been all glitter and sunset. The scale Keith had found had been the size of Pidge’s palm, deep black and shiny. It had been cold in her hands but there had been a whisper of an aura, a trace left by its owner. 

 

That’s why she isn’t afraid for Keith. 

 

Keith has a crush. A crush does nothing, a crush means nothing. As long as the merman doesn’t do as his kind usually do and drag Keith down into the waves, Pidge won’t have a problem with him.

 

Meeting the merman has opened Keith’s mind and  thus Pidge keeps a careful eye on him: Keith isn’t a regular human but he’s human enough that the existence of magic could prove devastating. 

 

But Keith is the most capable of adapting. And loving, caring with all the force of his fierce heart. For that, Pidge loves her friend. Loves the slightly dreamy little blush that appears on Keith’s cheeks when he recounts to Pidge and the others yet another meeting with Shiro, the merman. 

 

Shiro had told him soft things, warm things. Things no merman should ever say to a mortal man. Yet Lance and Hunk and Pidge merely share looks and smile. 

Love can destroy and burn and break but it is not all. Keith can’t be broken. 

 

**

 

By a chance, it’s Lance who finds Keith dozing in the pier, shielded by the burning morning sun by an oak tree, protectively hanging over him. 

Now, Lance isn’t the type to go jogging. He likes walking, he likes boxing and gymnastics, everything with a proper purpose but something had drawn him out of his and Allura’s apartment too early this morning. 

 

He had gone through his usual skincare routine, scrawled some video ideas, sent a have a good day at work, babe-text to Allura. And then Lance had pulled on his sneakers - white, with blue highlights- and went off. 

 

Complete opposite to his moody friend, Lance is a day animal. Sunlight is where he thrives, in pouring summer rains and hot beaches under his bare feet. He squints in the bright morning and begins to jog, humming along to the silky voice in his earbuds. 

 

Finding his elusive friend sleeping had taken a moment: Keith had been a black spot under the shade of the oak tree, curled up on the ground like the cat he often reminds Lance of. 

 

Lance’s feet stop. His eyebrows climb up. Because it is Keith, wind caressing pitch-black hair, long eyelashes casting long shadows on his pale cheeks. Neither Keith or Lance had ever quite managed to grow a proper beard like Hunk, but there’s a slight dusting of dark on Keith’s chin and jaw. 

 

“Hey, buddy,” Lance whispers and crouches by his friend. As usual, the ocean waves whisper to Lance, calling him, inviting him. The magic inside Lance responds, makes him lift his head and stare into the deceitfully gentle waves. 

“Buddy, Keith, hey,” Lance tries again and touches Keith’s arm. 

 

Instantly Keith jolts awake, eyes wide, one arm protectively curled around his stomach, his fist tightly closed. 

“W-what? Lance?” Keith’s bare arms have risen to goosebumps. His skin is icy cold to touch. 

 

Lance grins, hides his worry, the ripple of magic he feels from Keith under that grin. “I knew you were a weirdo, but sleeping like this? You’re just gonna catch a cold.” He nudges Keith’s shoulder.

 

Keith’s eyes, always so interesting and deep, a colour Lance has never seen on anyone else, stare at him. “Oh. Right. I was - I was dreaming.” He unfurls his fist and there it is, there lays yet another black scale and a crushed little red flower. Keith’s mouth twitches. “Dammit.” 

 

Lance glances at the sea but it stays still and silent. “Your man gave those to you?” It’s difficult to rile up Keith these days, but these little comments are the way Lance and Keith know how to communicate. They’re never going to be calm or peaceful sort of friends. Keith is as close to a brother as Lance will ever have. 

 

The dusting of pink on Keith’s cheeks could almost be sweet, if Lance didn’t know how treacherous sirens and merpeople could be. Still, Lance says nothing of the sort, takes his delight in the way Keith’s thumb brushes the large black scale.

“I just closed my eyes for a second. I guess he still found me,” Keith remarks softly and pulls up before Lance can offer to help.

 

“Cheesy,” Lance says. 

“You’re the one who showers Allura with rose petals whenever she’s had a bad week. You’re cheesy.” Keith’s mouth twitches into a little smile. Whatever sadness, darkness there is, is cleverly hidden. Keith tucks the scale and the crushed petals into his pocket. 

“And never claimed otherwise,” Lance says and begins to walk. 

 

Keith falls into step with him, never content with following anyone or anything.

 

Despite him possibly being so cold, Keith’s smile remains: a rare sight. The little distance between Keith and his friends remains, keeping them at an arm’s length and Lance doesn’t try to cross it. He’s fine with things the way they are. Keith is fine with things the way they are. 

 

But Lance has a feeling they both know something has shifted, has changed. Merpeople don’t swim in these parts, preferring warmer waters. Yet here is proof that one has: a runaway, an escapee? Maybe a curious youngling wandering too far from his pod? 

 

Keith keeps smiling, possibly thinking of his merman.

 

Lance grows curious.

 

Who truly is this merman who has captured Keith’s heart? Keith had told them the name Shiro. Had told them of the toothy grin, of the missing arm, of the gorgeous black scales and the curious, kind eyes. 

 

Aw, Keith has a crush, Lance had mocked. 

 

Keith had flipped him off but had continued to smile smile smile. In his eyes the stars exist and grow brighter, lit up by the love inside his fierce fiery heart.


	6. planning for an intervention

Keith’s taken to carrying Shiro’s scales with him wherever he goes. He’s made a little pouch for them and carries it around his neck, hidden under his clothes. Maybe it’s just his imagination but they always seem so warm to the touch, a forever reminder of their closeness.

 

His friends take notice. 

 

“Should we like, do something?” Pidge asks one evening in a three-way group call with Lance and Hunk. She frowns at one of her screens, sitting hunched in front of it as she taps away for yet another one of her multiple projects. She’s felt bad about keeping secrets, especially ones as big as this, for ages.

 

They should tell. They know something’s been brewing in the city for a while now, ever since Keith’s mer-friend showed up: as a fae, Pidge never interacts with merfolk, neither does Hunk. Lance, as a son of a selkie, does. He doesn’t like them. He thinks the merfolk, depending on their species, are brutes or just unnecessarily rude and pompous. 

 

Pidge calls him speciesist.

 

Lance makes a face. He’s in a committed relationship with the daughter of a fairy king and a fairy queen, he prefers to keep his feet firmly on the ground now besides the occasional visit to his folk at the sea. Different part of the sea than the mer, thank you very much. 

 

“What can we do?” Hunk says, pausing the game him and Lance are in the middle of. “You know how Keith is. You know how all these things play out. You can’t force him to accept who he is.”

 

“We should at least be able to tell him something,” Pidge huffs. “You know, I was okay with keeping things from him to protect him, but this is bordering on some, I don’t know, Harry Potter-bullshit - “

 

“Harry Potter-bullshit?” Lance snorts and crunches on another Dorito, dutifully wiping his fingers clean before grabbing the game controller again. “We’re not Dumbledore and Keith’s certainly isn’t Harry. Aside from that hot mess he calls hair.” He says it with fondness, not the griping manner he used to. Hunk still elbows him.

 

“Can we be serious?” Pidge lifts her head from the screen. “Keith is our friend, isn’t he?” 

 

“Of course he is,” Lance says.

“Naturally,” Hunk says, smiling. 

 

“And ever since he’s met this Shiro, he’s seemed so .. delighted. You know what his aura has begun to look like? Not pitch black like it used to be. There’s pink. Fucking pink. I don’t know if he knows it, but he’s in love,” Pidge continues. “We’ve known him for so long and he’s never been like this. It’d be dangerous if he went further into this without knowing anything.”

 

“I think we should talk to this Shiro,” Hunk says, ever the reasonable one. He scratches the stubble gathering on his chin. “Find out what he’s like. Don’t make that face, Lance, you don’t have to come with. But your connection to the sea would help.” 

 

“Or just asking Keith to introduce us,” Pidge remarks. She smirks. “Watch him squirm.” 

 

“Not like there’s a phone number for under the sea,” Lance huffs. “Keith has a shift again tonight, right?” After hearing a confirmation, Lance puts the game controller down again. “Why don’t we pay him a little nightly visit?” He bears his teeth. “Back him into the corner.”

 

“That’s a way to get your eyes scratched out,” Hunk says, nose wrinkling. 

 

“And get the truth out,” Pidge admits, grudgingly. “I’ll text him so he knows to expect us. I know, Lance, we all need our beauty sleep but if Keith can do it for years straight, so can we. Just for one night. We can see at the same time if we see more hints to what this thing is in our city - “

 

“You and your bad feelings again,” Lance mocks. But his thin brows are knitted together in a deep frown, good humour tinted with concern. Lance isn’t a secret-keeper usually, he’s a bad liar with an open face so even now he squirms. He had been swimming with his family just yesterday, listening to the loud chitters of his younger siblings, the worried huffs of his parents. The elders of their pod are furious, they had said. There is merfolk too close to their territory. Not the kind who prefer their art, their songs and have all the colours of the rainbow in their scales, but the ones with beastly teeth and long grey tails of sharks. All merfolk can eat selkies, can eat humans but these ones? 

 

These ones play with their food. Enjoy hunting creatures bigger than them in packs and tearing them apart, like wolves of the ocean.

 

This Lance tells his friends, the game now far from his mind. 

 

“So I’m right,” Pidge says. “You know, I’m gonna ask around too - you do the same, Hunk. I know your mom has a lot of friends in all circles.”

 

Hunk nods. “That sounds scary, those shark-people,” he remarks. He’s frowning even as he gets up and digs out his phone. “I mean, if they even eat people… “ He grimaces. “This friend of Keith’s doesn’t do that, right?” 

 

They share looks.

 

“We don’t know. THat’s the thing. We don’t know. Keith absolutely despises anything he thinks is charity and yes, he can take of himself but - we’re his friends,” Pidge huffs. “Let’s just do this for him and then maybe we can sit down and have a good long chat.” 

 

They bump fists, share a few hugs. Hunk and Lance depart from Pidge’s little apartment and she contacts her brother. She knows she’s more attuned to the auras of others than Hunk and feels more from people than he does - Hunk is a friend to plants and animals more than her. That’s why Pidge knows Keith can’t be entirely human.

 

No human has an aura that clear, black tinted with melancholy blue, slashed through with sweet, blushing pink, the colour for love. It’s thanks to Pidge’s parents that she knows how to interpret the auras, it’s thanks to them that she prefers the dim lights in her rooms, the glow of computer screens, the smell of spring. In her apartment, she lets her glamour drop. 

 

The same small ears with the pointed tips, the same wavy brown hair as usual. The same green glow in her eyes as ever, a telltale sign of the magic rolling inside of her. She doesn’t belong in the ocean and frankly, she’s a little freaked out by it, but for Keith she will do this. She will even go into the ocean itself if the situation calls for it. 

 

Her phone finally pings. 

 

“Hello, dearest little sister,” Matt sing-songs. 

 

Pidge snorts. She shares a lot with her older brother, especially the same shitty humour. “Shut up, Mattie. Anyways, I need your help - “

 

**

 

The glamour slides over both Hunk and Lance as they leave Pidge. It hides Hunk’s pointed ears and the glow of his summer-gold eyes, it hides the sharp blue glimmer in Lance’s eyes. 

“You know, I’ve been looking for an adventure,” Lance says and hooks his arms through Hunk’s. 

 

Hunk snorts. “Engaged life not adventurous enough for you?” He leads them to his pick-up truck. “Don’t let Allura hear that.”

 

Lance sighs, dreamily. “It is adventurous enough, with all my projects and Allura’s perfect everything, of course, but this? Maybe we can save Keith from making a dumbass decision. And save the universe.” He wiggles his eyebrows as he settles next to Hunk. 

 

Hunk turns the truck on and snorts. “You have big dreams, man.” 

 

Lance leans back and grins. “Big dreams and a big heart.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The friends discuss. Keith gets taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this has taken a hundred years ;;; ;

Keith climbs to the roof of his apartment building for his mid-afternoon breakfast. He digs through his pre-made sandwiches, smiles at the taste of Hunk’s very own, special spices on the neatly sliced carrots. The air is still and pleasant. Keith watches his sunlit city buzz under him and around him, turns to look at the glittering, inviting sea.

 

Keith’s neck warms. 

 

His merman hasn’t showed his face in a few nights. Keith has made pendants out of the scales Shiro has shed for him and never takes them off. Even now, he sweeps a finger over the other, feels the ever-present warmth on the shimmering black. Perhaps like this Shiro can feel the beat of his heart, no matter how far away he is. 

 

“Dumbass,” Keith murmurs to the wind and the air, the remains of his sandwiches that he tucks back into their wrappings. He stares harder at the sway of the ocean, like hoping for a glimpse or two of gentle silver eyes or a flash of a black tail. But Shiro doesn’t show. His scales glow, warm and comforting against Keith’s heart. 

 

Still Keith comes early for his work to wait for Shiro and leaves the last, even before Kolivan, ever the watchful eye in the dark, a father figure after the father Keith lost a child. Kolivan only frowns when he sees that Keith is at work too early again, watches with squinted eyes when Keith keeps gazing at the ocean.

 

All Kolivan says is this: “If there is anything you wish to talk about, you should know I am here, Keith.” 

 

All Keith says is this: “I know, Kolivan.” And that is that. 

 

Keith is fine with things the way they are. He spends his nights gazing at the way the stars reflect on the still waters and yearns. When a flicker of light does arrive, Keith drops whatever he’s doing and goes to the pier, It’s a warm night, a slow night. Keith is one of the three actually working, the warm air wrapping itself around him like protecting him. 

 

“Shiro?” Keith whispers to the waters, to the blink of eyes and the splash of a tail. Keith glances to his co-workers but they’re deep in concentration, far away from the deep shadow where Keith has crouched. He leans closer to the black water. 

 

“I’ve been so worried, Shiro - “

 

No more does he manage to say before a hand reaches from the ocean to grab his wrist and pull him down. Keith goes down a yelp, straight into the chilly embrace of the water, deep enough that the dock lights don’t penetrate the dark. Keith struggles because there are arms around him, squeezing him, teeth on his shoulder and something quite like laughter before a huge palm slams on Keith’s mouth and he can’t breathe, he can’t - 

 

The ocean swells around him, beneath him, seeps through his skin and Keith knows no more. 

*

 

Keith’s co-workers hear his shout and run, but the waters are still and silent once more. The co-workers call for Kolivan, because Kolivan knows all  - but this one Kolivan can’t understand. It’s not like Keith. Keith wouldn’t run away. Keith wouldn’t fall down. Keith knows how to swim, has known how to do so since he was six years old. 

 

Unless something pulled him down. 

 

This thought Kolivan keeps to himself. 

 

* 

 

Keith’s friends hear of this straight from Kolivan himself and gather to the docks the next day, regardless of work and studying and videos to be made. Oh, they’ve kept secrets from their friend and they know Keith has kept secrets from them too, perhaps more than just the black scales he cares for from a man he might learn to love.  After all, none of them are quite human, even though they live as humans. 

 

“What if this Shiro took him?” Hunk worries. “I mean, merpeople are notorious for being dismissive of humans - “

“Not that our darling mullet is precisely one,” Lance adds. 

“We don’t know that,” Allura murmurs. She’s frowning, her fae nature showing through in the unnatural shimmer of her eyes. “Although - “

“Exactly,” Lance says. “There is always a ‘but’ or an ‘although’. There’s a reason all of us have found our way to each other.” He sits crosslegged at the docks, picking up little stones and tossing them into the water. 

 

Pidge is the only one staying silent. She’s tapping on her phone and pacing. 

 

Hunk begins to pace with her, clearly restless to be without something to work with, muttering to himself. 

 

“Or it could have absolutely zero to do with Shiro,” Pidge says after a moment of silence stretches too far. She taps her finger against her lips. “None of us are mer or know merpeople. We’ve all kept our feet firmly on the ground. We don’t know their ways. And Shiro has seemed like he is exhibiting some courting behaviour - “ 

“True,” Allura hums. “Although I must say that keeping Keith in the dark of his comings and goings is not the way to a man’s heart.”

Lance shoots her a look. 

Allura snorts. “Well, there is always a chance of telling Keith too much - or Keith telling Shiro too much. But we must not be too doubtful. From what I understand, leaving one’s scales behind is not an insignificant gesture.”

 

“Courting, huh,” Hunk huffs, finally stopping his pacing. He looks at the ocean too, deceitfully calm. “I hope Keith’s not hurt. I know he’d hate to have people fussing over him but - he’s been through a lot in his life. Way more than all of us combined.” He tugs on his ear. “Oh man, what if there are like, evil mermaids - “ 

“Don’t be an idiot, my hunkalicious buddy,” Lance says and gets up, just to pat Hunk on the back. “I doubt anyone or anything can keep Keith down. Dude’s a warrior.” 

 

“Very true,” Allura muses.

 

“It’s interesting though,” Pidge says. “If he shows up soon enough or we find him, I’d like to ask him of the courting behaviour or talk to Shiro or - “she loses herself in explaining and eagerness, gestures wildly with her eyes shining. Despite this, her eyes too flicker towards the ocean, like expecting Keith to walk out any second. 

 

But Keith is deep, deep in the dark, trashing against bonds, the underwater cave surging down on him, keeping him locked in a claustrophobic chaos of darkness and glowing eyes and sharp, terrifying teeth. The guttural sounds of the mermen around him are far away from Shiro’s careful pronunciation. Who are these people? Where is this? Keith is cold and alone and they’ve tied up his hands and ankles, shoved something slimy and disgusting in his mouth to keep his quiet. 

 

The scales hang against Keith’s heart, thrumming with warmth. 

 

Will Shiro hear Keith’s terrified heartbeats? 


	8. mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's clan has a visitor.

“You have duties, Shiro,” his mother, the clan leader, says sternly. “We all know you have been gallivanting and doing God knows  what so near to the humans. What if they had seen? There’s a reason - “

 

It’s nothing she hasn’t said before. It’s nothing Shiro hasn’t heard before. He sighs. 

 

“When will you remember I have not been a fingerling in a couple of hundred years, mother?” He rubs his nose scar. “And you know there is no harm in watching.” The palace around them is silent. Shiro doesn’t usually care for sticking around, much more at ease with swimming in lighter waters or spending time with the few friends he has. But he had been summoned this time. 

 

“What is this really about, Mother?” 

 

Her lips twist. She’s way older than Shiro, he is only one of her hundreds of spawn. He is the only one who has survived to this day. 

 

“We have… a visitor.” 

 

Shiro frowns. “And?”

His mother drifts. Her magnificent tail is as black as the deepest void of the ocean, her eyes are endless pools. As all Shiro’s kind, Shiro has been raised by his clan. His mother is his mother only by a name. She hasn’t talked or seen a single human in two centuries and carries the scars of that last meeting on her face and on her body, unable to bear anymore offspring. 

 

Unlike Shiro. Shiro is perfectly fertile for eggs, for a mate. Maybe that’s what it is. Shiro grimaces. 

“Mother, I - “

“It’s not that, child. The visitor is one of the Galra.” 

 

Shiro freezes, muscles tensing up immediately, his backfin raised in alarm. “What?” The Galra are the enemy. The Galra are sharks, witches of the cosmos and deal with dark, deep things that are not for any living creature to know. 

 

Shiro’s mother reveals her shiny, sharp teeth. “She claims to be a rebel. As expected, all empires are gnawed into pieces from the inside. Ah, for the day to come when the Galra finally realize all this struggle and fight is futile. The world has no place for empires.” She clicks her tongue, commands.

 

Shiro turns to find a Galran mermaid ushered into Shiro’s mother’s hall. The Galra is slender and beautiful like all dangerous things are, her skin is smooth violet, the markings on her face and on her body would make her heritage clearer if it already wasn’t so. Her eyes are the same faint yellow as the rest of her kind, but her face shows no malice. 

 

Merely… concern? 

 

The guard that ushered the mermaid in stays near, face indescribable. 

 

The mermaid herself lifts her chin. “I - “ she begins, then crosses her arms. Shiro keeps his gaze in her eyes. 

“She has an interesting story to tell. Krolia, was it?” Shiro’s mother says, gives a dismissive wave with her spear-holding hand. 

 

Krolia, the Galra, nods. Her jaw is tight. “I have been looking for my child for a very long time,” she says. Her body holds scars, telling a story of a life in struggle. Is she alone? If she were a spy, she would have never gotten here. And her eyes - Shiro has never seen a Galra with such eyes. 

 

Krolia draws a deep breath. Her eyes shift to Shiro. “And I have in good authority to believe that you have been in contact with him. And that - that the Empire knows where he is as well.” Her hands curl into fists. “The Empire took me from my lover. Then they took him. I have not seen my child since he was a little fingerling and they took me from him, leaving him to die. I have looked for him for three decades.” She swims closer to Shiro, taller than him, but not towering over him. “My child… walks on two legs,” she whispers. 

 

Shiro jolts, glances from his own mother to this another’s mother, lost and clearly alone. “How - that’s not possible.” Already his heart is warming with sympathy. He, as most, know what it is like to lose things to the Galra’s teeth. Phantom pain tickles Shiro’s side, the stump of his shoulder. He pays it no mind. 

 

Krolia smiles, rueful. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “I cannot speak as the humans do, only clumsy, like a child still learning words. I never was given the chance to teach my child anything.” Her voice doesn’t crack. Her back is gently curved. Her tail, so long, luminescent, brushes Shiro’s. “I have seen him by the ocean and I know he is mine. He is an image of his father.” 

 

Shiro swallows. “How - how could I help?” Keith? Keith is half-mer? Shiro’s big heart is a thunder in his rib cage. Beautiful Keith with the galaxy eyes. With the sublime soul. In all of Shiro’s long years, he has never heard of a human and a mermaid successfully coupling. 

 

But it makes sense that Keith would be the result. 

 

“When did you talk to him last?” Krolia takes his hand between her own. 

 

“Ah, it’s - it’s been a few days. I ran into some good old regular sharks and had to hide for a while. I usually went to see him every other night - now, don’t look at me like that, Mother - and I was going to - what do you mean?” 

 

A gnawing doubt, a cold hand around Shiro’s heart. “Is Keith okay?” 

 

Krolia’s mouth tightens. “I was a spy for the Galra and against the Galra for years. I know how they work. And I - I have always - “ she trails off, lets Shiro’s hand go. “I heard the other humans looking for my son. I went to the harbour where I saw you talking with him and there was chaos. The Galra have taken my Keith.” 

 

My Keith. Shiro swallows hard. His fins puff up, his muscles are tight for a battle. 

 

“Denying you leave to save your little half-human would be unwise,” Shiro’s mother says. Shiro jolts, already forgotten that she was even there. “And you would not listen.” Her voice is deep with distrust, unapproval. Her frown is deep. She has always been mer first, everyone else next. 

 

Shiro smiles. “Exactly, mother. You think you know humans, but you don’t know Keith.” He steels himself. “My Keith. I know you do not approve and frankly… I am fine with that. You have not seen how Keith looks at me.” 

 

Krolia’s thin eyebrows have climbed up. She lifts her hand to her mouth. 

 

Shiro’s mother grits her massive, sharp teeth. “A half-human brat is not who I want as a mate for your, son.” 

 

Shiro turns to her. Oh, how Shiro’s body yearns for Keith, lost somewhere at sea. Shiro knows deep in his very soul that Keith is not dead. Half-mer just do not exist, not even between the aquatic species themselves. Who knows what Galra, the witches of the sea, would dig up from Keith’s vulnerable body, unused to the pressure of deep sea? 

“Yet Keith is who my heart beats for, Mother,” Shiro whispers. 

 

Krolia hums. “Not what I expected to hear but now I understand why I was drawn to you. You will make a good mate to my son.” 

 

Shiro blushes, the pink faint on his cool-blooded cheeks. He swallows hard. “Maybe… m-maybe think about that when we rescue him.” Keith, somewhere out there, alone. “Then I would like to talk to you, Krolia.” 

 

Krolia’s eyes narrow. Her lips form a little smile. “I will most certainly wish to talk with you, Shiro.” She shifts a little closer and already Shiro knows he likes this woman, loves her like he wishes he could love his actual mother. “Talk about how you and Keith will give me little children. I have wanted to be a grandmother for a while.” 

 

Shiro splutters. 

 

*

Somewhere, somewhere further away, Keith wakes up to pressure in his ears and blood on his teeth. The mer around him are all hulking and huge, their eyes are an intense, sickening yellow and the way they talk to each other is all grunts and clicks and growls. They have claws and teeth like sharks. 

Keith is made of glass in their hands. Somewhere, somewhere he hears water drip, drip, dripping. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A witch. A kiss of life. A happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry updating took so long again 
> 
> art is by yours truly ;)

 

Most of the Galra are holed up inside the caverns deep, deep in the oceans of the world. They outnumber every other mer clan by hundreds. Krolia knows the ins and outs of them, she’s seen the Palace of Zarkon, kilometres under the surface, she’s talked with the hulking giants with their yellow eyes. She’s survived, to this day. The caverns or the Palace is not where she takes Shiro when they leave the halls of Shiro’s clan. 

 

She takes another route, armed only with some kind of a spear that Shiro doesn’t know the name of. Krolia’s eyes gleam a pale gold, her scales smaller, smoother than Shiro’s, her tail such startling, bright purple. Shiro feels much like a monstrous, clumsy shark as he tries to keep up with her stealthy, silent pace. Krolia only offers him a smile and gestures for him to turn, for him to follow, for him to stop and wait for a Galra patrol to pass. 

 

Finally Krolia corners a hulking Galra, gets right on his pale face and begins speaking in quick, guttural Galran. Shiro hovers close by, stomach tied into knots, mind on Keith. Is Keith in one piece? Is Keith still breathing, somewhere, closeby? Shiro has only ever had a chance to brush Keith’s knuckles but now he wishes he had done more, found a way to get himself ashore to see if Keith really weighs as little as Shiro thinks he does. Or if Keith would smell as good closeby, Shiro’s nose buried in his beautiful hair. 

 

The huge pale Galra says not a word to Shiro, merely gives him a look that Shiro can’t decipher. Krolia squeezes Shiro’s shoulder and so, they continue. The pale Galra leads and they follow. The ocean is pitch black around them, illuminated only the ominous purple of Galran lights, the deep sea creatures prowling for food around them, startled away by the size of the mer. 

 

It gives no comfort to Shiro to know he is a bigger predator than most of these little fishes, for the Galra are the apex creatures of the seas. What would they ever want with Keith? Surely, Keith is beautiful, surely he has caught another’s eye as well. The hot, hot flash of darkness inside Shiro makes him groan. 

 

“Alright?” Krolia whispers to him, concerned. 

 

“Worried,” Shiro whispers back. 

 

“My - Keith is strong. He is of my blood.” Nothing more does Krolia say as she turns back to where they are going.

 

The pale mer leads them through underwater ravines, through thick bushes of leaves and schools of fish that scatter the instant they spot the three warriors. The strange mer shushes Shiro only once and says not a single word, not until they reach what seems to be the edge of this part of the Galra empire. 

 

The lights are less in here, bioluminescence of the Galra mer making them easy to spot. They stay away from a looming cavern, built to the side of a hill, stretching far, far up, probably all the way to the surface. 

 

“Why don’t they go in?” Shiro murmurs, sticking closer to Krolia. 

 

The pale mer’s face twitches. “That is the lair of the witch Haggar. I must go, Krolia. I cannot delay from my own duties any longer.” Those pupilless, pale yellow eyes are impossible to read.

 

Shiro grits his teeth, hand curling into fist. “Keith is in there?” 

 

The pale mer nods. “All I can tell you is that the witch and her underlings are vulnerable when they are chanting. Perhaps you have a chance of saving the human.” The merman’s voice is tinted with melancholia. 

 

Shiro’s tail flicks, his muscles tense. “Keith,” he whispers. 

 

Krolia squeezes his wrist. “Let’s not be hasty,” she murmurs. “Thank you, Ulaz. Go now, before they discover your absence.” Her gaze keeps flicking to the sides, her mouth is a tight line. Her claws are stretching, ready to tear. “Follow me, Shiro.”

 

The ocean water in here feels different. It’s colder, so cold that both Shiro and Krolia can feel it. Shiro tastes bitter ash on his tongue and he reveals his teeth, the fangs elongating further from the awful, awful feeling of being watched. They carefully swim closer to the hideout, to the looming, staring entrance to the cavern. 

 

They hear nothing from inside.

 

“Can you feel anything?” Shiro whispers, curling his fingers over sharp, steel-grey rocks. Purple light glimmers between them, that same, sickly glow that seems to hover over the entire Galran empire. 

 

Krolia’s mouth is tight. “We need to be absolutely quiet. I do not know this witch but I have heard enough stories to know she is the true evil.” She hesitates at the entrance, possibly feeling the same pressure as Shiro. She inhales deep. “Gods, it stinks. Shiro, before - “ her tail brushes his, carefully. “Don’t do anything rash. No matter what you see or hear. We cannot fight this witch. Promise me.” 

 

Phantom pain tickles Shiro’s side, what’s left of his right arm. He breathes harder, jaw clenched. “I promise.” 

 

Krolia gives him one last look before heading in. 

 

Shiro follows, close enough that he can keep an eye on her glowing tail, except: inky black darkness slams against them, the instant they swim inside. Shiro inhales sharply, Krolia’s name on his tongue but just in time, he bites it back. Even with his perfect vision, the ocean is dark this deep and these are unfamiliar waters. The cavern squeezes the oxygen from his lungs, turns the salty water into bitter ash. Shiro’s eyes water. He keeps his eyes peeled for any sound, any sign. 

 

They’re in a tunnel, leading somewhere, hopefully not death. Shiro keeps his hand on the curved wall, more feeling his way onwards than truly seeing. He hears nothing. He sees nothing. He thinks of Keith, trapped in here somewhere, possibly terrified out of his mind.

 

To have his mind so focused on one person, after talking to that person for a mere few times - it is not the mer way, not the way Shiro has been. But Keith resonated with him from the first moment Shiro spotted him in the docks, laughing at some joke his working friends had told him, hair in a ponytail, nose scrunched adorably. 

 

Shiro has never been in love before. 

 

He swallows hard and follows the twisting tunnels, losing his sense of space and time, unable to know if Krolia is in front of him or if Shiro is in the cavern anymore at all. 

 

Then, all of a sudden, the tunnel ends, sickly purple light and air, stuffy, sweet air slamming into Shiro until he’s left blinded and gasping. Krolia is next to him, her eyes red, teeth revealed in a snarl. 

 

The tunnels had all along led them to a secret cavern, a little plateau rising out of the sea, just out of the reach of Krolia and Shiro. On the plateau, under the watchful eye of an expressionless statue, lays Keith. 

 

Krolia grabs Shiro’s wrist and squeezes. For next to Keith, waits a haggard figure. 

 

“Let Keith go,” Krolia hisses. 

Shiro stares at Keith’s prone form, the plateau under him sticky and dark with blood, Keith’s lips parted, his skin deathly pale. Shiro can’t tell if he’s breathing. 

 

Shiro trembles. No. No. Not Keith. Not beautiful, melancholic Keith. Not Keith who Shiro hadn’t gotten around to kissing yet. Or holding his hand. 

 

The witch, for that’s who she is, reveals her teeth. She stands on two legs, surprisingly and holds with her a staff. Shiro can’t see her face under her deep hood, just a smiling mouth and long, raggedy white hair. 

 

“How sweet,” she whispers and her voice is the creak of a tomb stone, of fangs ripping into flesh. She nudges Keith’s side with her foot and smiles further. She lets out a hiss, a chuckle. “I have gotten what I wanted out of this half-breed.” 

 

Keith lays so terrifyingly still, his clothes ripped apart, cuts and wounds littering those gorgeous limbs that Shiro has never gotten to touch. 

 

Shiro growls. 

 

The witch actually twitches. “Keep your animal in check, sweet little Krolia,” she whispers. “If you kill me, who knows what would happen to you?” 

 

Under her hood, her eyes glow.

 

Shiro growls, seeing red. He wrenches himself out of Krolia’s grasp and leaps towards the plateau, slams to the side, uncaring of the bruises that are sure to form. 

“Don’t touch him!” Like this, Shiro finally sees what isn’t there, what caused the amount of blood splattered here: Keith’s arm has been hacked off from the shoulder down, no, bitten off. Shiro can see teeth marks, marks of claws, the gaping wound barely closed by whatever tricks this witch holds. 

 

The witch Haggar begins to laugh. “I took bits and pieces, little mer. All the bits and pieces I need! See if he breathes his last in the arm of his prince!” Her eyes gleam a sickly gold. “I will be lenient and let you leave - but only because one day, the weapon I have planted in you will rise again and destroy all. Until only the Galra remain!”

 

Krolia reaches for Keith too, just in time because the witch chants, casts a spell that sends them into darkness once more: with a splash, they’re all submerged again, Keith’s prone form between Krolia and Shiro, tightly held against strong arms that shiver with exertion. 

 

Shiro presses Keith’s face against his neck and begins to swim. 

 

Together, somehow, Krolia and Shiro make their way out of the oppressive hell of the witch’s lair, thoroughly shaken by her gaze and her words. Shiro prays, to whatever higher power listens, to the ocean itself to hold Keith in her arms and let him live, let him live just a moment longer. 

They break out of the caverns and make their escape, away from the ruins, the glow of Galra lights. 

 

The ocean grows warmer around them as they rise, until they break the surface. Still Keith doesn’t stir, now bleeding again. Under Shiro’s palm and Krolia’s careful hands, they don’t hear the sound of a heartbeat. 

 

“No,” Krolia whispers. 

 

Shiro is speechless. He kisses Keith’s pale cheek, kisses the wounds on his neck, his beautiful hair, now shaggy and damp. Shiro presses his lips to Keith’s, uncaring of Krolia’s gasp, her hands around her son. 

 

Whatever magic I have, give it to him, Shiro whispers, wordlessly, to whatever God would listen. He doesn’t let go, he holds onto his Keith tight and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, breathes against cold, unmoving lips and finally, begins to cry. 

 

“Shiro,” Krolia gasps. Her voice is trembling. 

 

Shiro presses his forehead to Keith’s, kisses him again. “Please,” Shiro whispers. “Don’t do this to me. Come back. Come back. Come back to me.” 

 

Cold, cold fingers press against his throat, gently brush his cheek. The fingers are smaller than Krolia’s, colder than hers. There is no fin between the fingers, no claws extended. 

 

Shiro opens his eyes. 

 

In his arm, is Keith, eyes open, breathing, albeit raggedly. But he’s breathing, gazing at Shiro, dazed. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers. He inhales shakily, manages to smile. “I was dreaming.” 

 

Shiro’s eyes fill with tears. He doesn’t have to look at Krolia to know she’s weeping, openly burying her face in her son’s hair. 

 

“I am your mother, Keith, your mother - my boy, I looked for you for so long, I’m so sorry it took so long, I’m so sorry - “ she keeps repeating, holding onto him. 

 

Shiro keeps his arm around Keith’s waist, tightly squeezing him against himself. “You weren’t breathing,” Shiro whispers. His gaze takes in the wounds, now closing where he can see. Thin lines, like the gills on either side of Shiro’s neck, appearing on Keith’s neck in turn. 

 

Keith’s eyes fill with tears. “You saved me, didn’t you?” He turns his head. “Mom? I… I - what is this?” He begins to laugh, a hysterical laughter that ends in a sob. “What is this? Shiro?” 

 

Shiro tugs his face against his neck and lets himself cry too. 

 

What a sight they make, all three: moonlight illuminating three heads, all pressed together, all with shameless, pained tears.

 

*

*

 

A week later, Keith is dipping his toes into water. He can hear his friends chatter loudly closeby, their laughter reminding him that he’s not alone, grounding him. Yet here Keith is, hiding behind rocks, not enjoying the long stretch of the beach where they have all gone to spend some good time together. Even Hunk took time off from his busy schedule and can be heard playing beach volleyball against the others and winning. 

 

Phantom pain scratches at Keith’s side and he sighs, goes further into the water, right to the edge of the sudden drop. The water in here is crystal clear, glittering like jewels under the sunlight. 

 

To think, that he is alive now, is a miracle. To think that he has a mother now, a mermaid for a mother who told him instantly all he wanted to know about her. 

 

To think, that - 

 

Keith smiles. “Shiro,” he calls out to the water after spotting a flash of glow and black, after feeling the scales warm up against his own skin. Keith never takes them off from around his neck anymore. 

 

Shiro’s head pops up. He grins. “Hello.” As usual, his adorable white fringe flops over his eyes and Shiro sweeps it away, revealing the eyes that Keith has found love in. “Come for a swim.” 

 

Keith bites his lip. This thing between them is tentative, curious. They’ve taken figurative steps towards something more, especially after realizing that Shiro’s kiss did more for Keith than just wake him from near-death. 

 

Shiro swims a little closer, close enough to reach for Keith and grab his hand. Shiro presses a kiss to it, overjoyed that he can, now. He can and he will. 

 

Keith huffs. “Let me undress first. I’ve had enough clothes ripped off me.” His cheeks are already pink from the sun, but redder they go at Shiro’s increasingly intense gaze. “Don’t you look.”

 

Shiro huffs. “But - “ he smiles and dives to wait for Keith to join him. 

 

To think, that today’s Keith, despite the new nightmares and the littering of scars and the missing arm, is happy. He is content. He slips out of his simple t-shirt and shorts and slips into the water, right to the welcoming embrace of his love. 

 

Their lips meet, as they have met again and will meet again, numerous times. The change comes to Keith swiftly, knitting together his legs, forming a tail of gorgeous, fiery red, leaving him breathing water like it was air. 

 

Today, Keith doesn’t have to look at the stars and long for something he can’t describe. Today, Keith can just be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed. <3


End file.
